


if being afraid is a crime we hang side by side

by kiranxrys



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: (answer is no), (it's bareil dont worry bbys), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Disorder, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Post Episode: s03e13 Life Support, edit: references to garashir, i mean am i capable of writing anything that doesnt end happily lol, only bc i cannot be bothered working out timelines okay, tender emotional wlw content for the hoes...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23679454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranxrys/pseuds/kiranxrys
Summary: Kira Nerys is afraid. She's terrified. It seems like all at once her entire world is caving in, collapsing in on her and choking the air from her lungs.The only tether keeping her from floating away into empty space is none other than Jadzia Dax.
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/Kira Nerys
Comments: 18
Kudos: 78





	if being afraid is a crime we hang side by side

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from Swingin Party by Lorde.
> 
> Edit 19/10/20: A YouTube playlist for this fic can be found [**here.**](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQVeGL_xM5jzjc53eXTKjwfSZZ6EM8cLF)

The day that Kira Nerys met Jadzia Dax was a day she remembers later mostly for the anger that overshadowed it – her frustration with the Provisional Government, with Sisko, with the way the future of Bajor seemed to be slipping further and further out of her grasp, drifting away into the uncertainty of space. She remembers seething as she went with her new commander to meet the Federation Science and Medical teams arriving on Deep Space Nine. They were as awful as she imagined they’d been. They even managed to make her even angrier than she was before.

There was that man Bashir, first of all, the ridiculous doctor who struggled to control his tongue. A few others with faces so unremarkable that she didn’t really try to remember the names Sisko listed off as they disembarked. There was Jadzia.

“Major Kira, I’d like you to meet a very old friend of mine,” Sisko said, a wide smile dawning on his face as the woman appeared. “Lieutenant Dax.”

“You’re the Trill,” Kira stated blankly.

“That’s right,” Dax replied, her expression lit up as if she had never been happier in her life. “Please, call me Jadzia.”

Kira Nerys decided that she would not.

“I’m really looking forward to us getting to work together,” Dax added, quite annoyingly. Her hand was held out in greeting. Kira looked up into the Trill’s eyes with a feeling verging on disbelief. There was something about her eyes. They were blue.

She reluctantly took Dax’s hand and shook it. The warmth and life beneath the skin scared her. “Hopefully we’ll get along,” was all she said. She doubted that they would, but it seemed polite.

When they stepped out into the station, Kira was taken aback by the way Dax’s eyes seemed to change colour with the light, while still keeping that strange striking glimmer within them, glowing like the stars. They reminded her of the oceans on Bajor, wide, blue, full of mystery. She’s beautiful, Kira thought. Then, she knows too much. That was the shine in Dax’s gaze. Understanding. Curiosity. Knowing. And Kira did not want to be known.

She looked away and allowed herself to fall back into her anger again.

Kira breathes in a shuddering gasp of the warm air, ignoring the temptation to reach for the temperature controls and adjust them again. It had been so cold in there when she’d entered. So cold. So quiet. She shivers and buries her face in her hands. The universe is constricting.

There is a soft chime to signify someone is outside her door. Something in her heart twists.

“Go away Julian,” she calls, voice cracking uncontrollably. “I don’t want company.”

He means well – Julian is nothing but always well-meaning, but she cannot stand the thought of seeing him now. Once they took the body away, she left the infirmary without a word to him or anyone else. What could she say? The man I loved is dead. He’s gone and I can’t bring him back.

“It’s not Julian,” comes a voice. It sounds oddly distant, like a signal travelling from a far-off system. Another blinking light in the unbearable blur of the world. “It’s me.”

Jadzia. Kira is drowning, drowning in the deep blue oceans of her eyes. Drowning, but Bareil’s cold hands are grabbing her and dragging her back to the surface to breathe the icy air of reality.

“Can I come in?”

She wants to see Jadzia, wants to feel the safety of her touch, the smile she offers that fills dreams and grounds her when she feels lost. She wants the company of the friend she never thought she would never find in the Federation officer. Wants to, but cannot. “No. I need to be alone.”

Jadzia leaves and Kira sits in silence for hours until she finally finds her way to sleep.

She goes back on duty the next day. Julian objects, goes to Sisko to argue she’s been through a ‘traumatic life event’ and ‘needs time’. A commander who cared less might’ve just agreed and told Kira to leave, but Sisko isn’t like that. It doesn’t take much to convince him of the truth – the worst place she could be at that moment was trapped alone in her quarters with nothing to do. Kira has to work. She has to keep fighting.

Jadzia sits across the room from her and Kira can often feel the other woman watching. She doesn’t look up for a moment during the whole shift, afraid of making eye contact. With anyone, not just Jadzia. She knows what she’ll see. Pity is something she’s not sure she can stand. Kira built herself up as a fighter, as a survivor. The strong one. The leader. Sympathy makes her scared.

When the shift ends, she tries to escape Ops before anyone can stop her. Jadzia doesn’t give up that easily, of course. She leaps into the turbolift after her, a gentle smile on her face. Kira might’ve smiled too if she didn’t feel so completely empty inside.

“Where are you headed?” Jadzia asks. She’s the first person to address Kira since Sisko did that morning. People are avoiding me, she realised. They don’t know what to say. That was almost worse than pity. It’d all been so much easier during the rebellion – losing people. It was normal and all for the greater cause, all justified. What had Antos died for? Some uncertain possibility of peace, something intangible.

“I… I’m not sure.” She thought of escaping back to her room, away from silent stares. Except her quarters are so quiet and cold. And filled with memories of Bareil.

“Come with me to get dinner at the replimat?” Jadzia suggests. “Just the two of us.”

Kira looks into those ocean-blue eyes and manages a deep breath. “Alright,” she whispers. How could she ever say no?

They eat earlier than usual for most aboard Deep Space Nine, so the replimat isn’t too crowded. Kira isn’t even that hungry, so she lets Jadzia decide what on to eat. While she waits at their table, she feels several people throw nervous glances in her direction and pointedly ignores them. The flicker of anger that passes through her is the first real emotion she thinks she’s felt in a day.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Jadzia asks, after Kira has tried several times during their meal to speak and ended up closing her mouth in defeat at every occasion.

“It’s just that… I don’t… I just don’t-” Kira breaks off in frustration, her fork clattering down onto her plate. She usually finds words so easy. “I don’t feel like myself.”

Jadzia puts down her own utensil. “And that’s okay, you know. There’s nothing wrong with feeling that way. What you’ve gone through, it’s…”

“You’ve been talking to Julian again,” Kira interrupts with a breathy, anxious laugh.

“And if I have? He’s unfortunately quite right about these sorts of things most of the time. It’s going to take time.”

“What if I never go back?” she asks softly. “What if I’m… what if I’m never normal again?” Her voice cracks on the word normal. Kira feels tears in her eyes and tries to hold her breath, hold the pain inside to make them go away. She doesn’t want a scene.

Jadzia reaches out and takes her hand across the table. She can’t really hear what she’s saying, but the comfort of her steady grip is enough to keep Kira from starting to cry.

“It will be okay,” Jadzia promises her.

When Kira makes it back to her quarters, brushing off Jadzia’s offer of more company, she goes straight to her desk and begins to work her way through personnel reviews and messages from the surface. Some of them about Antos, which she tries to read as if they were nothing more than wormhole activity reports. She keeps working late into the night. She has to.

A few weeks later, it starts.

She wakes up feeling normal - a little heavy, perhaps, but nothing very noticeable. By midday it starts to hurt. It feels as if someone has their fist around her chest and is squeezing it hard, crushing the air out of her lungs. Most days she feels so unwell by the end of shift that she had to excuse herself to her quarters with made up apologies for cancelled plans.

It keeps her up for hours and hours every night. She struggles to concentrate on work from lack of sleep. Eventually Kira finds herself with no choice but to brave the infirmary. A nurse directs her through to Julian’s office when

“Good morning, Kira,” Julian says brightly as she enters, taking a seat on the far side of his desk.

She is already beginning to regret not just putting up with the pain. “That’s Major to you,” she mutters, although she doesn’t really mean it.

“Yes, yes. Now what can I do for you?”

Kira sits down in the chair Julian gestures to and steels herself further. “There’s... something wrong with me,” she says tightly. “I can’t sleep. My chest hurts. It’s like... it’s like I can never breathe in enough. I think there’s something wrong with my heart. Or my lungs. Or something.”

Julian nods thoughtfully, his usual look of unreserved concern painted across his face. “Any other symptoms? Or is it just the pain in your chest?”

“Well...” Kira tries to think back across the past few weeks. “I feel nauseous,” she says eventually. “And dizzy.”

“Do you feel like this all the time?”

“No,” she replies quickly. “I’m fine in the mornings. It sort of- it sort of gets worse throughout the day. By night-time it’s so bad I can’t sleep. I tried taking some pain relief meds,” she adds, “but it doesn’t help. I lie there and it feels like I’m suffocating. But the more I try to breathe, the worse it gets.” She hadn’t been meaning to say all that. Why hadn’t she just asked for a check-up?

Julian sighs and sits forward in his chair. Kira feels oddly hot, even though Deep Space Nine’s environmental controls are usually set a little too cool for her liking.

“Look, Nerys... I’ll run some tests and make sure nothing’s wrong physically. But to me, it sounds like you’re suffering from anxiety.”

She laughs out loud. “You have got to be kidding me,” she exclaims. “Anxiety? Have you met me?”

“All your symptoms would match up to having an anxiety, or possibly panic, attack,” he explains calmly. “And given your recent life events on top of your experiences during the occupation, I wouldn’t be surprised. If it is anxiety - like I said, there are tests we can do to make sure it’s not something else first - there are plenty of options open to us to help relieve it. There’s medication I can prescribe that might let you get on top of it, but from there it’d probably be most beneficial for you to see one of the counsellors on the station.”

Kira cannot believe her ears. “But I’m not anxious about anything! Nothing’s worrying me! You know what,” she says, standing up, “I’m fine, actually. Forget I ever said anything.”

“Kira, you’re clearly not fine, and as your medical professional and your friend, I am trying to help you,” Julian says, taking on his important doctor tone. “But I can’t do that if you won’t let me. There’s nothing to be ashamed of if it is an anxiety disorder that’s troubling you. It’s not a choice you made, it’s not a character flaw. It’s just the same as if something really was wrong with your heart or your lungs. It’s a health issue that needs the right kind of treatment to improve.”

Kira stops in the doorway, highly aware of how much worse the ache in her chest has grown, how insufficient every breath feels. “But why now? I’ve never had problems with... anxiety before. Why now?”

“I wish I could tell you, but there’s just so much about the brain we still don’t understand,” he replies. “There are no clear answers. But it could possibly be a situation of this issue building up over time until it reached a tipping point. With everything you’ve gone through-”

“But it’s never bothered me before. The things I’ve gone through. I’m always fine.”

“But you’re not always fine, Kira, that’s the point,” Julian interjects gently. “Your pain and fear have been repressed to allow you to remain hyper-competent even during the worst disasters. Except it couldn’t just disappear. It’s been sitting beneath the surface until... until recent events drew it all out.”

It’s Federation doctor drivel. It’s ridiculous. Kira doesn’t know what to say.

“I have a patient coming in a few minutes,” Julian says. “But I’ll make an appointment for us for after my usual office hours tomorrow. Does that sound okay?”

Kira nods.

“In the meantime,” he continues. “If you ever need help urgently, I’m always here.”

“You won’t mind if I wake you in the middle of the night?” she asks sarcastically. Julian is famous for absolutely hating having his sleep disturbed.

“Not at all,” he replies. The sincerity in his voice is enough to touch even her, and she hates him for it. “You’re my friend. I would much rather you came to me, no matter what time it is, than suffer by yourself. If not me, call Jadzia. Or anyone. Whatever’s going on, you never have to be – you never should be – alone.”

She laughs almost tearfully at the easily recognisable trademark Julian Bashir rousing speech.

“Do you have duty now?” he asks her.

She nods again, not sure if she can speak without her voice cracking.

“I’ll excuse you from work today on medical grounds. You need time to process, and work is a good distraction, but it’s overwhelming you more.”

“What reason will you give?”

“None, for now. If Sisko asks, you or I can talk to him. Sound alright?”

“Yes, thank you.” For once, she doesn’t feel like she can face Ops. “I think... I think I’ll have a lie-down. I’m tired.” She’s only been awake for an hour or so, and she’s already exhausted. Her conversation with Julian feels as if it has leeched away almost all the strength she regained in her measly five hours of sleep.

“Okay. Send me a message this evening to let know how you’re going. And remember I’m always here for you, and so are the others. See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” she agrees.

The darkness and quiet of her quarters are, for the first time in weeks, strangely comforting. She puts on some Bajoran music and decides to try to make a start on a book of awful Cardassian poetry that Jadzia is forcing her to read. Her heart doesn’t stop hurting, but for a while, at least, she forgets the suffocating sensation and simply breathes.

  
Julian runs all sorts of tests on her the next day, but nothing physical is out of place. Her heart rate is high, but as he says, that’s to be expected. He gives her a stack of questionnaires to fill out. Her hands shake slightly as she grips the tablet and enters her responses.

“I’m not an expert in psychology,” Julian tells her, “and I would like you to see one such expert as well as the counsellor for a second opinion, but it’s my belief that you have an anxiety disorder. The medication I give you will be a head start, but it’s important that you really apply yourself to the therapy and take it seriously.”

“Of course.”

“I forget who I’m speaking to. As we all know, Kira Nerys never does anything by halves.”

She does her best to smile. Despite Julian’s reassurance, she feels ashamed. She feels like a failure.

“I know this is daunting. But you’re strong, Nerys. Things will get better.”

There is nothing to do but hope that he is right.

  
Things get worse before they get better. In the week or two between speaking with Julian and her appointment with the psychiatrist - who Julian believes it’s important to consult before she’s medicated - she starts having nightmares. They’re so vivid she wakes up panicked and sure that they’re really happening. Sometimes it’s trying to run away from some unseen enemy, sometimes it’s being trapped in the dark with no escape. Usually, though, it’s of people dying.

Bareil. The junior officer she was talking to right before she got off shift. Nameless Bajoran children, buried in rubble.

One night, she dreams of Jadzia. She walks down a flight of stairs in the Promenade and there she is, lying on the hard ground with those beautiful, bright blue eyes empty and lifeless. Kira tried to scream for help, but the people just kept walking on by, not looking. When her eyes open, there are already tears on her face. She tries to hold back a sob.

Before she knows what she’s doing, Kira reaches for her comm badge and murmurs, “Kira to Dax.” There is no response. Of course there isn’t – Jadzia is asleep. Or dead. “Kira to Dax.”

“Dax here.” Jadzia’s voice is muffled and distant, but it’s there, and Kira barely manages to contain the choked sob that attempts to escape her.

“Is everything okay?” Jadzia asks.

“Yes, I- I needed to know you were alright, that’s all. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“I don’t mind,” Jadzia replies mildly, voice still heavy from sleep. “But why wouldn’t I be alright? Has something happened?”

Kira clutches the comm badge so tightly it hurts. “No I...” She puts a hand over her mouth to hold it in. “I wish you were here,” she murmurs, almost accidentally.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Yes.”

It’s just a whisper, so quiet Kira hardly even realises she’s said it aloud, but Jadzia must have heard because she says, “I’ll be there in a minute,” and the room goes quiet again. Kira allows herself to cry.

Jadzia enters a few minutes later, a dark silhouette in the shadows of her quarters she can just see through the blur of her tears. Kira falls into her arms, sobbing silently as she tries to get her breathing under control. It’s so hard when it feels like her choice is between hyperventilating and suffocating. Jadzia holds her head in her hands, gently stroking her hair and whispering words Kira can barely hear. A few minutes pass.

“It’s okay,” Jadzia murmurs. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I- had a dream,” Kira manages. “I’m… sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I’m glad you called.”

Kira lets Jadzia lay her back down on the bed, feeling the other woman’s arms curl around her, holding her tightly. “Please don’t go,” Kira whispers. She’s so afraid of being alone.

It becomes a pattern. Kira and Jadzia find each other most days after their shifts are done and rarely return to their own separate quarters to sleep. It’s nice – the security, the routine. In the evenings they get dinner somewhere not too noisy or work on reports in Jadzia’s room or even brave a visit to Quark’s, which Kira almost always regrets. Once, she even lets Jadzia convince her to come along to a Ferengi game night, which is truly the most awful experience of her life. Kira doesn’t hate other company. She’s learned to put up with Julian’s prattling, at least. But Julian’s style of discourse is a bit too intense for her a lot of the time, especially these days. It’s the terrible influence of that Cardassian friend of his.

Kira isn’t quite sure how she feels, or if she feels better. Talking to the counsellor Julian referred to her is hard. They ask a lot of questions about the occupation and about Bareil and other things that almost seem like a lifetime ago now. They do teach her how to regulate her breathing and ways of distracting herself from the anxiety. Every morning she takes her medication – Jadzia makes sure she never forgets. She can’t really tell whether it’s working or not. She feels slower than she used to. But panic doesn’t come to her so easily anymore, and she’s usually asleep at a normal time. So long as Jadzia is there.

She doesn’t really know what to make of her and Jadzia. They were good friends before, always had been, despite meeting each other from such opposite sides. Jadzia is clever and funny and beautiful and always seems to know the right thing to say at any given moment, unlike Kira, whose quick temper can sometimes get the better of her. Jadzia is like the ocean of her eyes. Calm. Determined. Nothing ever fazes her. The gift of many lives, she supposes.

“Why do you even bother with that?” she asks Jadzia from across the room. Her friend has been sitting silently in her chair for an hour now, reading some horrible Cardassian novel.

“If you gave it a go, you might be pleasantly surprised,” Jadzia replies with one of her fleeting, enigmatic smiles. “Garak’s enlisted me to help him win an argument with Julian. I decided I should probably get the full experience.”

“Poor Julian,” Kira mutters, casting her own tablet aside. Her mind feels like it’s gone smooth from reading security reports Odo sent her. The aftermath of Quark’s latest business scheme – this time involving three separate delegations and a _long_ list of bills for property damage – is beginning to take its toll.

Jadzia raises her eyebrows, not looking up from her book. “Really? From what I’ve seen, I can’t imagine he won’t enjoy it.”

“I am begging you not to use _that_ tone when you talk about it,” she groans. “And whatever does happen, _I_ don’t want to hear a thing about it.”

“You’re going to have to face it one day, you know,” Jadzia laughs, finally setting aside her tablet and crossing to the replicator. She lets her hair out of her ponytail and it falls loosely around her shoulders in strangely perfect curls.

“Nope, not happening,” Kira mutters. “I can’t believe you encourage it.”

“It makes both of them happy. Who am I to stop that? Besides,” Jadzia adds with a wink, “better Garak than _me_.” She brings over two glasses of what Kira knows to be a kind of Trill wine, something she’s been drinking for the first time recently, and curls up on the sofa beside her.

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs.

“I always am.”

Kira feels something stirring in her heart – not fear or pain, like she’s come to expect – no, something else. It’s been so many months since the last time. She sits and sips on her drink in silence.

It’s Julian’s birthday. Well, it was his birthday a week ago. Certain… _events_ interrupted plans for a timely celebration. The worst thing about the whole business is that Julian now has yet another dramatic story to recount at any opportune moment. Kira thinks she must have heard it at least ten times now. She can’t work out whether to be offended by the Bashir-brain version of herself or not. Still, she’d much rather have him tell _that_ tale to every person he meets rather than the one of what happened the last time Lwaxana Troi visited Deep Space Nine.

Either way, Julian’s birthday was rescheduled to today. He’s even letting Jadzia throw him a party. Kira’s been sent to pester Quark about the catering. Apparently, she’s the best person to call for getting him to actually follow through on the many promises he makes. Indeed, it only takes a few minutes to get his terrified assurances that everything will be delivered to Sisko’s quarters. She’s not entirely sure what possessed Sisko to offer up his living space as tribute. Perhaps he felt bad about Julian’s psychological ordeal.

Something is very wrong today.

She feels off, jittery, almost unwell. She probably picked something up at the replimat yesterday. But since it’s sort of Julian’s birthday, she’ll leave the doctor appointment for tomorrow.

“Are you alright?” Jadzia asks when she returns to Sisko’s quarters, where Jake and Nog are busy setting up decorations and causing a lot more mess than strictly necessary. “You look pale.”

“I uh- don’t feel too well,” Kira admits. “Sick in the stomach. And I’ve got this awful headache. I’ve probably got some sort of bug, who knows.”

Jadzia, a concerned look on her face, pats the place on the sofa beside where she’s busy using an icing pen to write Happy Birthday Julian on top of the cake. Kira takes a seat and rests her head against Jadzia’s left shoulder.

“Couldn’t the replicator have done that?” she asks.

“Yes, but it’s more special if you do it yourself, don’t you think?”

“Oh, sure.” Kira is no expert on birthday traditions and decides to question the situation no further. She’s pretty sure Julian wouldn’t mind if his birthday was nothing more than a few close friends around a replimat table – he spent the week before his actual birthday and the incident moaning about the horrors of ageing, after all – but as Jadzia has told her, birthdays are rarely actually about the person whose birthday it is.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” Jadzia continues. “You should’ve told me – I wouldn’t have made you deal with Quark. But you can have a break now.”

“How can I, when there’s so much work to be done? And in so little time?” Kira remarks sarcastically. “I mean, Julian will be walking through that door in what? Two hours?”

Jadzia laughs and shakes her head. “Just take it easy, okay? Maybe you should go have a rest.”

“Probably a good idea,” she sighs. “I’m going to need all my strength for tonight. I assume that _Garak_ will be there.”

“I mean, he and Julian are practically _inseparable_ so-”

“Ugh.” Kira gives Jadzia a playful elbow in the side and drags herself to her feet. “Please don’t talk like that ever again. My imagination is bad enough. See you back here in a bit?” Jadzia nods, and Kira feels a little bit guilty for how long she lingers in the warmth of her friend’s smile. Are they friends? Kira has started to feel as if there is no word in Bajoran that means what Jadzia is to her. Maybe no word in any other language either.

She wants to ask Jadzia where they stand. But she’s afraid that by posing the question, she risks ruining everything. The thought just makes her feel sicker.

Back in her quarters, she changes out of her uniform and into her formal Bajoran clothes. Her hands hover over the fabric for a moment, hesitating. It’s been a long time since she wore these. Not since the festival. Antos was still with her then. She takes a deep breath, trying to force back rising anxiety. Nothing like the accident that took Bareil from her will happen tonight. Everything is going to be okay. She gets a glass of water to help with her headache.

The next hour feels like the longest one of Kira’s life. She tries to lie down in bed and close her eyes, but the nausea is overwhelming and it’s impossible to be still. She ends up getting up and pacing around the room, snapping her fingers distractedly. Her mind scans back over the past few days, desperately trying to pick out a point of infection or drink she had that someone might have drugged. The dizziness is worse than ever. She sits down.

Eventually the doorbell chimes and Jadzia walks in. She’s wearing a silky blue dress that matches her eyes. She looks beautiful, as always. Kira hates herself for looking. She feels like some part of Bareil is hanging over shoulder, whispering things in her ear she knows he would never say.

“Feeling better?” Jadzia asks.

“Yes,” she lies. “Party started?”

“Pretty much. Come on, let’s go.”

Kira lets Jadzia take her arm and direct her out the door. The whole world is spinning, but Kira puts one foot in front of the other and keeps walking. She just has to smile and be polite for a few hours. It will be fine.

It isn’t fine. The room is so full of people, half of whom Kira doesn’t really know – medical staff, the command team, some random pair of alien twins Jake and Nog have brought along with them. Kira grips Jadzia’s arm tightly and imagines she is somewhere else. On one of Bajor’s beaches, looking out at the rolling blue-green waves. She says happy birthday to Julian. She doesn’t say much else.

Jadzia _insists_ on talking to Garak. Kira is increasingly uncertain about the Cardassian – she used to think she’d figured him out, but the more conversations she has with him, the more she realises she really knows nothing at all. Except maybe that Deep Space Nine’s resident tailor is not quite the perfect, heartless liar he likes to put on. Julian always says there’s more to him than that. Kira is beginning to believe it.

Garak and Jadzia talk about literature very amiably for a few minutes, seeming to agree on almost everything. Kira struggles to process what they’re saying. It’s only when Jadzia squeezes her lightly on the arm that she jolts back to the present and realises her friend is trying to talk to her.

“Will you be okay if I leave you here with Garak for a second?” Jadzia asks quietly.

“Oh, uh- yeah,” Kira answers thoughtlessly. She still feels half in a haze. Then Jadzia is gone and she is left standing with Garak, fingers fiddling with her sleeve. She sighs. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a talker,” she apologises to her company over the noise.

“Really?” Garak remarks, wearing his typical disconcerting smile. “I am surprised.”

“Maybe just not at these types of events.”

“Or perhaps just not in this kind of company,” the Cardassian suggests.

Kira throws a glare in his direction, but she’s too tired and shaky to give it much force. She’s almost glad of all people she was stuck in this situation with Garak. In a strange way, he’s the person in the room least likely to make her feel embarrassed.

“Would you like to sit down?” Garak says politely, so politely she almost can’t hear the promise in his words that he means or comprehends more than he actually cares to say.

Somewhat grateful but mostly suspicious, Kira accepts his offer and they sit down on two sides of a small square table in their corner of the room. Looking around and seeing everyone having such good times makes her feel guilty. Why does she always have to be weird and ruin things?

“If you are unwell, you know you need not stay,” her companion remarks.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you quite sure, Major? I am no medical professional, but you seemed to me to be on the verge of fainting just now.”

Kira wishes she knew what Garak is trying to get out of her. “I’ve just got a cold or something,” she insists. “I’ll survive.”

“Have you spoken to our dear doctor about it?”

“It’s his birthday,” she replies, “I don’t want to bother him.” She drums her fingers restlessly on the tabletop, wondering when Jadzia is going to return. The irony of her and Garak’s situation is not lost on her, though, and she can’t help smiling at what the Kira Nerys of just a year ago would’ve thought.

“What _is_ so funny, Major?” Garak asks.

“Oh it’s just, you and me,” she answers, refusing to meet his dark gaze. “Who’d have thought it, you know? A Bajoran and a Cardassian on Deep Space Nine, sitting here like this.”

“It is a rather humorous turn of events,” Garak agrees. “And yet, both of us outsiders, in our own way.”

Kira looks at him sharply at that but is interrupted by the return of Jadzia. She stands up. She stands up too quickly. The world spins. Jadzia only just manages to grab hold of her in time. Kira is surprised to even feel Garak’s steady grip on her other arm, keeping her upright. She tries to breathe in, but the whole room is so overwhelming and something catches in her throat and she feels like if the lights get any brighter or the crowd any noisier she is going to be sick.

“Kira, what’s going on?” Jadzia’s voice is so far away.

“Is the Major okay?” Someone new is speaking. The blur of tears in Kira’s eyes makes it so hard to see. _Sisko,_ she thinks. _That’s Sisko, isn’t it?_

“She said earlier that she was feeling unwell,” Jadzia is saying. “Maybe we should get her to the infirmary-”

“No,” Kira chokes out, chest aching so badly she thinks she might just die. “No infirmary, I need- _quiet.”_ Quiet and darkness and for someone to remove the clamp blocking the air from her lungs.

“Take her into my room,” Sisko orders. “I’ll get Doctor Bashir.”

Kira is moving forwards, but she hardly knows it. Then someone shuts the door and she’s sinking to the floor in a sea of black. The air is warm and still.

“Lights to thirty per cent,” Jadzia murmurs. “Nerys, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t breathe!” Kira sobs, pulling her knees up to her chest and rocking forwards. “I can’t breathe, I can’t-”

“You _can_ breathe,” Jadzia tells her. “Nerys, Nerys look at me.”

Kira glances up. Jadzia hovers over her, features soft and gentle in the faint light. Her blue eyes are like a piece of string tying her to the world.

“Will you breathe with me?” Jadzia requests quietly. “Come on, you know how to do this. In for four-” she breathes in, and Kira does her best to copy, “-hold… and breathe out for eight. Count in your head with me. Four, seven, eight.”

Sobs shake Kira’s body, making her breath catch at every turn. But Jadzia holds her hand, squeezes, and counts to four. To seven. To eight. Somehow, Kira breathes. She feels so sick. The world is still so blurred around the edges. The pain in her head pulses like her skull is about to crack in two. The door opens and Kira jumps nervously, eyes darting over to see Julian enter the room.

“What happened?” Julian asks seriously, crouching down beside Kira.

“I- I couldn’t breathe,” Kira says, burying her face in her knees. Even after all these weeks, she can’t really say it.

“You had a panic attack,” Julian answers for her.

She nods.

“Did you take your meds this morning?”

Something slips inside of her. “No,” she whispers. “I forgot.” She is such an idiot. She ruins everything. Of course she’s not sick, she’s not drugged – she’s herself. Major Kira Nerys of Deep Space Nine. And it feels awful.

Julian gives her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. These things happen.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, breaking down into sobs again. “I’m so sorry. This is your party and-”

“I don’t give two cups of Tarkalean tea about the party! No offence,” he adds quickly to Jadzia, who shrugs and smiles. “You’ve been so brave, Nerys, through all of this. It’s really extraordinary. You might not want to hear it, but I’d say you’re just about the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

She laughs a little through her tears. “You’re wrong,” she tells him. “I’m not strong.” There are so many things she’s afraid to do. Go back to Bajor. Sleep without Jadzia beside her. “I just… I feel like a burden.” It’s the most truthful thing she’s said all day.

“You’re not.” Jadzia’s grip on her hand tightens. “You don’t know how much I rely on you, you know. I probably don’t say it enough. But I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Kira looks past her friends to the wall of Commander Sisko’s room beyond, trying to keep her thoughts present and sharp. She suddenly feels so tired. “Is this- is this what my life is going to be?” she wonders aloud to no one in particular. “Relying on a drug, losing it when I forget?”

“Recovery isn’t linear,” Julian says, settling down cross-legged against the bed. “You’ll go through rough patches. But we will _always_ be here for you. You won’t ever be alone. And…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve got to believe you deserve to be happy, Nerys. Because you do.”

Kira breathes in, and out. In, and out. The world is coming into focus. “I’ll be okay,” she says. “I just need some time.” And the Prophets will always be there to guide her. She still believes it, despite everything.

Beyond Sisko’s room, someone is calling out Julian’s name. There is a loud thump that sounds very much like somebody falling against the door.

“Well, I suppose that’s my cue,” Julian groans, standing up. “Come out whenever you’re ready.”

“And if I’m never ready?” she jokes tearfully.

“I imagine Sisko will _probably_ want his room back eventually, but this party is likely going to last until some ungodly hour in the morning, so you’ve got plenty of time.” With a final smile, he crosses the room and slips out of the door.

“Do you want me to go?” Jadzia asks.

Kira can’t imagine anything she’d hate more. “No, please stay,” she whispers. “Please stay.”

“Alright, I’ll stay.” Jadzia takes a seat beside her, and it’s enough to just hold her hand and breathe in her hair and believe that maybe, in some small way, she does not have to suffer.

An hour or so later, Kira feels oddly calm. Calmer than she can remember feeling in weeks. The galaxy seems to have slowed down a bit. The downside of the serenity is the odd haziness messing with her senses, but at least she’s breathing again. Jadzia brought her a slice of Julian’s cake and a cup of tea, slightly bitter the way she likes it.

She lies with her head in Jadzia’s lap, breathing her way through the fog. When she opens her eyes, Jadzia’s blue gaze stares down at her with stars glittering in its depths. Kira smiles.

“What is it?”

Kira sighs and sits up, Jadzia’s hand slipping from her hair to the curve of her cheek. “Just you,” she replies. “You make me smile.”

A bright grin overtakes Jadzia’s expression. “You make me smile too. I meant what I said. I couldn’t imagine being without you.”

“I used to think you must hate me,” Kira remarks, “I wasn’t that polite to you when we first met.”

“You had the right to feel angry, after everything. But I’m glad things changed. I… I can’t explain how much you mean to me, Nerys.” She speaks more vulnerably than Kira thinks she’s ever heard from her before. Maybe even nervous, like she’s afraid her words are too strong.

She couldn’t take into account how absolutely and painfully Kira loves her.

She loves Jadzia. She loves her glowing smiles that creep across her face and into her beautiful eyes, which match the soft blue of the Federation uniform she wears. She loves how Jadzia has slipped so easily into her life, loves the warmth and safety of sleeping beside her and waking up each day to Tarkalean tea and the comfort of company. She loves the looks that Jadzia throws across Ops to her and how if either of them is away on a mission or leave, they keep in contact with a constant stream of messages and calls. She loves how although she might be afraid of nearly everything in the galaxy, only sometimes is she afraid of being alone. She loves all of it.

How could she not?

How could Kira Nerys not love Jadzia Dax?

She wants to say it. She just doesn’t know how yet.

“You don’t need to explain,” she murmurs, slipping one arm around Jadzia’s shoulder and nuzzling into the crook of her neck. “I understand.” The world beyond can wait. It’s just her and Jadzia, forever. Sailing through the stars.

Bajor changes with every week that passes. In a way, it’s recovering, regrowing from the occupation and reminding Kira more and more of what the planet used to be. But it’s changing as it recovers, too, and each time she visits she is reminded that nothing stays the same. And things can never just go back to the way they once were.

Kira hasn’t been back to this part of Bajor in a long time. There was a time when she thought she never would – never could. The monastery is haunted. She wonders how she never noticed it before. It’s not just Bareil. There are hundreds of them. She’s not sure whether to thank the Prophets or fear the weight of all the spirits in the air, of all the memories. The monastery gardens are warm and green and teeming with life and death.

Months ago, after the funeral, one of the ranjen told her Bareil had left some things behind for her at the monastery. All she’d been able to think of was returning to Deep Space Nine. She promised she would come down another day and deal with it. And then she didn’t. Maybe she never would’ve, but her counsellor told her it might be good to put that part of her life to rest. Besides, the lingering guilt of leaving Bareil’s memory behind grows with every day she wakes up to see Jadzia beside her. She needs to know it’s okay.

One of the monks directs her down a corridor and into an open-air room, Bajor’s beautiful landscape and blue skies visible between the pillars. The floor beneath her feet is a deep red, like blood. In the centre of the room is a pale stone bench, on which sits a small, dark box. Taking a deep breath, Kira crosses the crimson tiles and picks up the box. It’s only about the size of her palm. Inside is a Bajoran earring, delicate and expertly crafted. She recognises it. It was one of Bareil’s.

The sound of a voice drags her gaze upwards, except the room is still empty. There’s nothing else but a few wax-coated candle holders and a stone pillar holding an ornate grey box. Two circular windows on the sides of the box reveal a deep blue light glowing from within.

Kira has been here before. She understands the voices now.

The Orb of Prophecy and Change haunted many of her dreams from the day she first received its vision. _Be useless, Nerys,_ she remembers Bareil told her. Kira Nerys was a fighter. But to hear the words of the Prophets she had to stop fighting. She had to just be.

In the many months since Bareil showed her the Orb, Kira had learned to live with herself. Her hands were steady as she opened the doors of the box and allowed the light to shine upon her face.

She’s standing before the Chamber of Ministers, in her uniform like last time. The ministers are shouting, screaming at her, waving their fists as they vie for her attention. There is no one there to help her hear what they’re saying. Their cries are roaring in her ears, indecipherable. She breathes in. Out. _In for four,_ she thinks. _Hold for seven. Out for eight._ Slowly, the storm of voices begins to fade.

“Nerys, open your eyes.” Someone is holding her hand, the gentle grip a comforting tether to the world. Kira feels more at peace than she has her whole life.

Jadzia is in the blue dress she wore to Julian’s party.

“I can hear them,” Kira says. “I know how now.”

“You’re doing so well,” Jadzia murmurs, her other hand reaching up to stroke Kira’s cheek. “We’re so proud of you.”

“They cannot help you,” comes another voice, icy cold and cruel. Kira remembers this part. When she turns around, though, her tormentor is not Jaro but a shadowy figure who seems to jump between forms, never permanent. Gul Dukat. A Founder. One of the Jem’Hadar. “Listen to us. They can do _nothing.”_

Kira reaches for Jadzia’s hand again, but she’s disappeared into the shadows of the hall. “You’re wrong,” she replies shakily. “I can hear them. They’re calling to me.” And she knows it, too. Her fear won’t hurt her. She feels sure.

“Come with me, Nerys,” Jadzia calls. “We’re waiting for you.”

She turns and falls into Jadzia’s arms. The sunlight is soft and warm upon her skin.

“I wish I didn’t feel afraid,” she says, resting her chin on Jadzia’s bare shoulder.

“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid. It’s only part of being alive.”

 _Do I want to be alive?_ she wonders. _Is that what I want?_ She glances up into Jadzia’s eyes and has her answer. _Yes. I wouldn’t have anything else for the world._

“I feel guilty,” Kira whispers. “It’s silly, I know… but I do. He died and I lived.”

“That doesn’t mean you should be sad forever. Is that what he would want?”

Of course he wouldn’t. Bareil was kind. _And he did love me, for a long time,_ she thinks. _And for some of that time, I think I loved him too._ But now he was gone. For Kira – a physical being, insignificant, controlled by the forces of her universe – the past was only that, the past. Memories. Every day the world continued to change. She recalls Julian’s words. _You deserve to be happy._ She just has to believe it for it to be true.

“Thank you,” Kira says. It’s all she _can_ say. The Prophets have spoken.

Jadzia holds her close to her bare form until the lights brighten and the world around her fades.

It’s late by the time Kira returns to the station. It’s funny, having time on a space station. Having an hour where the lights dim slightly as if mimicking the journey of a sun across the sky throughout the day. She supposes there wouldn’t be any other logical way to live. They were all born out of time on their homeworlds, had their lives ruled by its passing. There’s no escaping it now.

She goes back to her quarters and buries the box containing Bareil’s earring deep in a drawer of odds and ends, unsure what else there is to do with it. Maybe one day she will find someone who she’ll know it belongs to right away. She doesn’t need jewellery to remember Bareil by. He would stay with her even if she left Deep Space Nine and never returned to it or Bajor again. Her rooms are chilly and dark and empty. It makes her nervous.

“Computer, locate Lieutenant Dax.”

_“Lieutenant Dax is on the Promenade.”_

Kira changes back into her uniform and heads out into the station corridors, which are quiet this late at night. The only place on the Promenade still alive at this hour is Quark’s. She pokes her head through the door briefly to check Jadzia isn’t there, ignoring Quark’s shouted promise of a free drink she is certain she would never receive if she came inside.

She sees Jadzia up on the higher floor, a silhouette against one of the large expanses of glass looking out into space. Even from a distance, she can tell.

Jadzia looks very beautiful, as she always does. Her gaze is contemplative, holding a wisdom born of many lifetimes of experience. Kira doesn’t even know how to comprehend it, sometimes. To have that much in one mind. That much pain. That much joy.

She joins Jadzia by the window. Beyond is an endless black ocean, patterned with countless pinpricks of light.

“I got your message,” Jadzia says after a minute, “that you were on your way back. I decided to wait up for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, but I wanted to. How was your trip?”

Kira sighs. “It was… useful. I feel better about things now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Jadzia leans close to the glass, eyes scanning the space beyond. “You’re just in time. The last ship of the day is about to go through the wormhole.”

They watch as a small freighter sails away from the station and into the mouth of the wormhole, which flashes to life in a way that reminds Kira evermore of the Prophets. _They’re watching over me,_ she thinks. _Watching over all of us._ Whatever they are, really – gods, seers, or simply creatures they do not yet entirely understand – she trusts them. She has heard them speak. The wormhole disappears as quickly as it revealed itself.

“I’ll never get tired of watching that,” Jadzia remarks.

“We’re lucky,” she agrees. Lucky to experience such a wonder. Lucky to have found each other. Lucky to be alive. Kira doesn’t want to hide it anymore. She reaches out tentatively and takes Jadzia’s hand in her own. “I love you.”

Jadzia turns to her with a smile that could break Kira’s heart. “I love you too.”

It’s all Kira needs. She steps into Jadzia’s space and kisses her gently, hoping she can feel the emotions that she will never be able to put properly to words. They seem to stay like that forever, in the pale light of the Promenade balcony. “Is it that easy?” she whispers eventually, pulling away.

“Of course it is.”

 _Of course it is._ She allows herself to lean forward and kiss Jadzia again, holding her tightly to make sure she never slips away into space. She allows herself to be happy. She allows herself to be afraid.

The first time Kira Nerys met Lieutenant Dax, a part of her was determined to hate her. She didn’t the trust the future back then, trusted the Federation least of all. She was waiting for the day when it would all go wrong.

But a part of her saw Jadzia – saw the warmth, the kindness, the _knowing_ in her eyes – and knew that she could love her. Maybe even knew that one day she would.

Kira had feared weakness. She was scared that she was going to fail or lose the things that mattered most. _There’s no weakness in caring,_ Jadzia had once told her. _You know that._ Kira did. Caring is why she fights on, no matter what.

She is terrified. And she decides to love in spite of it.

**Author's Note:**

> i finally started deep space nine (best trek don't @ me lol) and this story has been nagging at me for a while. i decided to give in and write it. this was mainly based on my own experience with anxiety and with being a girl who loves girls. it's about the yearning, you know? anyway, kira's struggles are just a reflection of mine - everyone's experience with something like anxiety will be different.
> 
> i hope you got something out of this one and that you are safe and well. these are very difficult times and we have to remember that it's okay to be afraid. fear does not make you weak.


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